


— and she ran.

by dledee



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Finding Oneself, Gen, college elektra
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-07-13 22:12:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7139567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dledee/pseuds/dledee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>what could she do but run at having to face the fact that the one man she has ever loved has never understood her?</p>
            </blockquote>





	— and she ran.

The last thing she hears is Matt’s voice calling for the police, the thing that rings in her ears as she walks away and runs… and runs. First it’s about getting away from him, reconsidering her possibilities. He was supposed to say yes, he was supposed to get her, was supposed to thank her for the possibility for making justice. And instead he didn’t. Instead he looked at her like she was a monster. If she had any tears to cry, she was sure they would fall freely down her face now, sure she ought to be a crying mess as if she’s a silly little girl who’s broken up with her boyfriend. But Elektra isn’t that, she’s never been that.

So instead she’s just running, running until she can’t run anymore, running until all her strengths desert her and she can no longer hear Matthew’s voice. He’s not like her, no one is like her, Stick lied. Stick told her it should be easy, that she should easily be able to distract him, to make him go back to fighting their war. And yet, he made himself interesting by getting a read on her on their very first meeting. But Matthew did not, does not, will not, understand her. He was not expecting the blood in her hands, he doesn’t get it, he’s not drawn to death like she is, like a good old greek tragedy.

Challenge the gods and you shall get your punishment eventually.

She’s read them all, tried to be a good daughter and taken an interest in her adoptive parents’ culture, from Oedipus to Medea to Agamemnon. And of course her namesake, both versions. Electra torn from her own brother. Electra cast out from her home by the rage bubbling up inside her at her father’s death. Electra who doesn’t care for her sister like their own mother does. Electra who, like Antigone, wages war not against the Trojans but against the Gods themselves. Because they were the ones casting such a fate upon her without caring for how it would affect her. Why should they? They are Gods, they care only for being worshipped.

Eventually, it’s not her drained out strength that makes her stop, she is simply tired. Tired of running with no direction, tired of running to follow someone else’s orders. Stick left her. Abandoned her and called out only so he could have Matthew. Would he simply have left her to live her make believe life until the end of time if he didn’t want Matthew? Would she have preferred that? Would she rather if he had left her to live this life? Money and cars and fancy dresses with martial arts classes that feel more like not losing her skill than preparing to fight a war that’s so far from her mind she’s almost forgotten it exists?

Stick brought it all back. The fight, the war, and the confusion. It was becoming so easy to be Elektra Natchios, the greek diplomat’s daughter instead of a war weapon.

A light rain begins to fall and she’s not sure how long it’s been since she left Matthew with a bloodied up and almost dead Roscoe Sweeney. Is the police there already? Did Matthew get out? Does she care? She turns her face up to the skies, screams at them in her own quiet way, with no words, like Stick taught her. It’s too light a rain to wash away the thoughts and memories and make her feel brand new, but she doesn’t want that, does she?

In a fleeting moment, the decision comes to her. To keep running. To go back to her NY penthouse only to email her father not to expect her any time soon. He probably has always imagined this would happen, no one will be disappointed. And she needs time away. Needs to cut off all ties to everyone and everything and find out who she wants to be. Does she need to be a weapon? Can she be nothing but a weapon? She’s the only person who can answer those questions. There’s some quiet comfort in that, in knowing that no one else on the planet can tell her what it is she wants to be. They can tell her what they want her to be, but they can’t tell her what she wants herself to be.

At last, an honest smile is on her lips. It only took her deciding to be no one to find a semblance of truth in her life.


End file.
